Ice Prison
by KivaEmber
Summary: Aang-centric drabble. The one hundred and twelve year old boy was still trapped in his ice prison.


**Title: **Ice Prison

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **Noooope, only my crazy ideas.

**Summary: **Aang-centric drabble. The one hundred and twelve year old boy was still trapped in his ice prison.

**Word Count: **624 words

**A/N: **My first Avatar story. Yay. (Throws confetti into the air)

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this quick drabble!

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"_I've been living for so long,  
Many seasons have passed me by.  
I've seen kingdoms through ages  
Rise and fall,  
I've seen it all._

_I've seen the horror,  
I've seen the wonders  
Happening just in front of my eyes.  
Will I ever,  
Will I never free myself by making it right?"_

_-- Jillian (I'd Give My Heart), Within Temptation_

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**ICE PRISON**

One hundred and twelve years old.

Aang tried to collect that many pebbles during the middle of the night. He found seventy four pebbles, and twenty rocks from the dim light of the still glowing embers of the extinguished campsite, and lined them up in a swirling pattern of the symbol of airbending. It wasn't one hundred and twelve, rather ninety four, but even if he was off by eighteen pebbles or rocks, it still looked a lot even when stylised into a pattern, and Aang felt the crushing weight of his years even more.

He looked at the sleeping silhouettes of his impromptu friends (if knowing them for only three days after his rather rude awakening counted them as friends than acquaintances), stared hard at the relaxed and young faces of the sleeping Katara and Sokka, and wondered if they felt their years, small in margin compared to his, crushing down on their frail earthly bodies.

Probably not. He took pebbles away from his pile, estimating their combined ages, and their pile was still tiny compared to his.

He didn't remember the slumber in his ice prison, just the desperation, the fear that clawed at the inside of his throat and threatened to tear out of his mouth in a never ending scream as he fell in the sibilant embrace of the roiling waves of bitter cold. His awakening wasn't any different. Cold, confused, desperate and afraid. Katari's blue eyes reminded him too much of the clear blue skies and the colour of his fellow airbenders' arrows.

Appa groaned in his sleep, and Aang felt the crushing weight lessen just a little. Appa probably felt the years too, so he wasn't alone at least.

He gathered up the pile of pebbles into a messy pyramid, collecting a handful and dropping them on the ground, small puffs of loose dust billowing out. He was reminded of an old story, older than one hundred and twelve years, older than one thousand and one hundred and twenty years old, older than the art of bending itself before the Avatar was born to balance out the element. It was a story from when people didn't have bending abilities and relied on their power to create, to create different worlds with only an idea and plenty of imagination, able to create transport devices which could fly like Appa but made from heavy metal, able to create…marvellous things…

It was a story of a glass coffin, by The Brothers Grimm. And Aang trapped inside his ice prison reminded him of the glass coffin, and he wondered if eventually, after he did his duty and was able to slink away from being the Avatar, if there would be a story called The Ice Prison.

He could write it himself…like a memoir. Being an Avatar didn't mean he could pursue other dreams as well, after all.

Aang sighed, sending a quiet gust of air at the pile of pebbles and watched them skitter across the dusty ground, rolling away in separate directions before falling flat. One hundred and twelve years. Triple digits…

He felt old.

"I don't want to see my room after all this time." The young monk laughed falsely, attempting to swat the feeling aside. His weak laughter trailed off, hooded grey eyes glancing around their temporary campsite. "I don't…"

The final glow of the embers died out, and Aang, surrounded by the chilly darkness of night, the new moon black against the navy sky and the pile of ashes grey and desolate on the dusty ground, curled up with his knees against his chest, the crushing feeling of those years swallowing him whole.

The one hundred and twelve year old boy was still trapped in his ice prison.

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**A/N: **Aaah, my first Avatar story…and it's depressing -.-; oh well, gotta start somewhere, ne? I always thought that Avatar was actually a pretty dark series in some places, but, to each their own.

Btw, the last line was a reference to Howl's Moving Castle. Great book that was…

Hope y'all enjoyed!


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